Father's Funeral
by Rassilon001
Summary: The Turtles and their extended family and friends grieve as one of their own is lost to the ages forever. You never truly know what you have until its gone. Farewell, Hamato Yoshi. Farewell, Splinter. You will be missed.


**Disclaimer:  
**I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, in any of its franchise forms, series or incarnations. They belong to Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, formerly Mirage Studios, and now Nickelodeon.

**Summary:  
**The Turtles and their extended family and friends grieve as one of their own is lost to the ages forever. You never truly know what you have until its gone. Farewell, Hamato Yoshi. Farewell, Splinter. You will be missed. Based on the 2012 TV series, set sometime after the shows grand finale. Rated PG-13 just to be on the safe side, for Mature Themes including Death, Grief, Loss, and Suffering.

* * *

It was cold today, and silent as a tomb.

The Turtles lair was lackluster in every sense of the word, and impossibly quiet. Gone were the sounds of rambunctious teenagers, of the crack and smack of hard weapons in the dojo, of the various television programs they enjoyed and geeked out over together over the years. Even the science lab was conspicuously silent, the hum of machinery absent from the background. Everyone sat quietly, speaking little, and always in hushed whispers, unwilling to break the oppressive pall hanging over their heads. Today was the day, after all.

Today was the funeral for Master Splinter.

No one had seen it coming, no one had expected it. It seemed so utterly impossible a concept to grasp. That one day their sensei, the arguably greatest martial artist and teacher of ninjutsu, could be claimed by death. It had only been a week, and everyone was still reeling from the loss.

It had caught them completely by surprise. For them, it had just been another dangerous mission out of many. The Turtles and their allies had gone into what they hoped was their final conflict with the Kraang, fully prepared to banish the world-conquering aliens back into the void between dimensions they'd come from. Splinter had remained behind in their lair. It had been a long, hard fought battle against robots and mutants and troubles of all sizes and shapes. But in the end, they'd emerged victorious as they always had. Hardly anyone had been hurt, the Kraang's plot had been foiled in spectacular fashion, and the Earth was safe again from their machinations. All in all, just another day in the life of a ninja turtle.

And then the Shredder had intervened.

He cared nothing for the fate of the world, for his Kraang allies, for even his own minions. Not even for the loss of Karai. His sole passion in life was deadly vengeance. For a slight committed against him decades ago, for a grudge that had festered like a foul poison in his black heart.

And it seemed as if the return of Miwa to the Hamato family had done nothing to abate this hateful madness. Quite the contrary, it had left Oroku Saki positively unhinged, driving him to newfound levels of rage.

While the Turtles had left with the others to thwart the latest Kraang invasion, the Shredder had entered their no longer hidden lair and confronted Splinter in his very own home. Judging from the state of things afterwards, the battle had been hard fought and bitter. Deep gouges were found in almost every surface, almost nothing had been spared. The game consoles and television were broken, Donnies lab was trashed, the kitchen was aflame, and only the dojo had seemed largely untouched by the rampaging ninjutsu masters. This was not overly surprising, as it turned out later that the Shredder had been using armor specially crafted by Baxter Stockman and been exposed to doses of mutagen-enhanced steroids just prior to the battle. He hadn't even been close to human anymore, he'd been some kind of rampaging Super Shredder.

Whatever else had happened, however, it was abundantly clear how it had ended.

In a Daburukiru. Double kill.

Splinter had impaled the Shredder on his sword with a blow so fierce it went clean through his armor and out his back, piercing through his black heart. But Oroku Saki had gotten the last laugh after all. His final blow, a solid strike with both blades through Splinter's chest, had been fatal. Punctured one of his lungs and very nearly his heart as well. Splinter had barely had the strength to crawl into the dojo and lie down beside his meditation tree. The Turtles had found him there a short while later, clinging to life by the thinnest of threads. A short while later, and despite all their best efforts, he just faded away.

Their teacher was gone.

Their _father_ was gone.

They'd barely had time to say their initial good-byes before he'd breathed his last breath.

In the aftermath, the Turtles had moved Splinters body to rest in his room, quietly cleaning up the blood and fixing the broken furniture in the lair. A few trips to the nearby refuse dump had removed anything unsalvageable, and in less than a day it was completely clean. Even more so than it had been while their master had been alive. It almost felt unnatural, they'd been so used to Splinter being the one to tell them to clean up after their messes or fix their mistakes. Now, they would welcome a familiar yell of 'What is going on in here?' and a brutal but fair punishment for their actions or inactions.

But whether they liked it or not, he was gone. They had only his example to live by now.

And that meant they had to conduct a funeral befitting Splinter's life. Today was that day. It seemed more appropriate to be doing it on a Sunday, somehow.

So they'd sent out the invites to all their friends and allies, bringing them all to the lair. At first, Raphael had protested, saying they were violating the protective sanctity of their home, which Splinter had always maintained. Leonardo reminded him that it was _their_ home now, and _their_ decision what to do with it. Reluctantly at first, Raphael had agreed with this reasoning. Given how many already knew of their homes location anyway, it seemed silly in hindsight to protest such.

Lots of things looked wholly different in hindsight. Things left unsaid that should've been... but no longer could be.

Almost everyone they knew was coming to pay their final respects. April O'Neil, Casey Jones and Irma Langinstein. Leatherhead and Slash. Mr O'Neil, Marikawa-san, and Mr Kurtzman. Miwa. They hadn't been able to get a hold of some of their more elusive allies like Pigeon Pete and the Newtralizer, or even Tiger Claw, but there was only so much they could do in such a short period of time. It was truly a testament to Splinter's legacy that so many from such varied backgrounds were all coming to bid him farewell. If not out of love for the ninjutsu master himself, then out of respect for his students and his children.

In sharp contrast, when the terrible Shredder had finally fallen, he'd fallen alone. His desire for vengeance had utterly robbed him of anything resembling friends or family. His own Foot Clan had not come to aid him or look for him. And at the very end, even what remained of his humanity had been a price paid in vain.

Raphael and Casey had therefore taken a certain sick delight in dropping off the Shredder's body in a compactor at the city dump, crushing it and a ton of garbage into a cube scarcely a meter in diameter. But whatever satisfaction they'd had in getting rid of their hated foe had faded soon enough. It hadn't brought back their master, after all.

The kitchen clock began to chime as most of their guests arrived, and the four turtle brothers shared a glance and a nod. Without words, they agreed it was time to go. Metalhead 2.0 started up his flamethrower limb and passed out lit torches to everyone as they followed Leonardo out of the lair and down a connecting junction to where the body was waiting.

It was time to say their farewells.

* * *

At first, none of them had quite known what to do.

Even Leonardo, who'd found Splinter's final will in his room, could not find any instructions for his remains. Evidently he'd trusted his four sons to think of something. At first, they'd toyed with the idea of burying him at the park near Times Square, where Hamato Yoshi had sometimes found solace and sanctuary on long walks before his mutation, but somehow it did not sit right. Neither did Miwa's suggestion they return him to Japan. Yoshi was from Japan, while Splinter had made his home in New York. In the end, it had been Raphael who'd come up with the best idea for the funeral.

So Splinter's body lay on a small boat barely bigger than a canoe, filled with dry straw. One appropriated from the docks by a most neglectful and inattentive owner. His hands were clasped in front of him, holding his familiar jade walking stick to his chest, while at his feet was the horned helmet of his enemy. The one whom he'd finally managed to defeat, after so long locked in perpetual conflict.

It was going to be a Viking funeral.

Eminently suitable for one who'd lived a life of conflict and died so far from his original homeland. There was also the wisdom of destroying the body. Even a single cell from a mutant would be valuable to the Kraang, or less scrupulous humans like Doctor Falco. It was better to remove such temptation from the world. Raphael could not have picked a better send off for their master.

The small boat was tied to the side of the drain pipe, for the current was stronger than usual today. It was raining up on the surface, and the walls of the sewers were slick with moisture. The gloomy day above was reflected in the darker sewer tunnels below. Torchlight reflected off the walls in odd and eerie patterns as the Turtles and the other mourners gathered along the ramp, which seemed barely large enough to hold them all. Leatherhead made room by climbing halfway into the water, which also lowered him down to their height. Though he did take a moment to set his record player aside before doing so, ensuring it kept dry. Everyone was speaking in quiet, hushed whispers.

"Just can't believe he's gone..." said Michelangelo, gazing at the body with uncharacteristic solemnness.

"Yeah," agreed Donatello. "I always thought he'd just... keep on going, ya know? Live forever. I mean, that's scientifically impossible, I know, but..."

He trailed off as April took his three-fingered hand in hers, giving a soft squeeze.

"Sorry... guess I'm rambling," he said with a sheepish smile. "Again."

"We all miss him, Donnie," she said gently. "It's gonna be okay."

And some of them were evidently taking this loss better than others. Raphael had managed to keep a tight lid on his emotions up until now, but seeing his father's body lying on the funeral pyre, seeing the ugly helmet of the Shredder resting at his feet, was making him feel tense. He had never wanted to hit someone... _anyone_... so badly in his entire life. He wanted to just rush over there and shake Splinter until he woke up, knowing full well it wouldn't work.

"We should've been there," said Raphael, his hands clenching into tight fists. "Fighting right alongside him. He'd've done the same for us."

Leonardo placed a hand lightly on his brothers shoulder. "We had our own mission. He knew that."

Raphael didn't respond, but he did seem to relax marginally under his brothers touch.

"He had a good death," added Slash from Raphael's other side. "A warriors death. He didn't curl over and croak of old age, he died on his feet, fighting. That has to count for something, right?"

Ordinarily, Raphael would've agreed that was the much better way to go, if not the only way to go. But right now, he'd have vastly preferred if Splinter had lived to be a thousand year old, and then died quietly and peacefully in his sleep when he'd had more silver fur than brown.

"I guess," he finally replied, non-committedly.

Casey seemed to feel the same as he wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, wishing he still had his mask on so he could hide. He'd only been little when he'd lost his mom after all, he had really remembered it. But he'd known Splinter for a while now, ever since his first meeting with the Turtles. He'd started out downright terrified of him, and not just because he could break him with his pinkie finger. But in the end, he hadn't even thought of Splinter as a rat. He was just Splinter. He'd almost been like a second father to the misguided youth. And now he was gone. Casey stubbornly tried to keep from crying, but try as he might, he could feel waterworks coming on.

At his side, Irma produced a handkerchief and offered it to him, and Casey blew his nose with it, loudly breaking the oppressive pall.

"Ehehe... sorry," he said, offering the soaked handkerchief back to Irma. She took one look at it and immediately declined.

Seeing everyone had gathered and were waiting, Leonardo glanced over at his sister Miwa, hoping she'd say something. But the young blonde woman looked positively numb with grief, her gaze unfocussed and eyes puffy from crying the night before. Her dark funeral kimono stood out in sharp contrast to her pale skin, which was cold and clammy, and her eyes were dark from sleepless nights. She almost looked ready to follow her father into the afterlife.

"Miwa?" he asked gently, startling her out of her reverie. "Didn't you want to... say something?"

"I did but... I can't... I can't seem to remember what I was going to say," Miwa whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear it. The broken look she gave reminded him that although she was older by about a year, he was still the big brother of the family.

"You should... you knew him much better than I ever did," she added morosely.

Grimly, he shouldered the responsibility as he always did. Long practice had made the unbearable weight somewhat easier to manage. Leonardo stepped in front of the assembled mourners and thought a moment, trying to come up with something, then simply spoke directly from the heart.

"I... I don't really know what I can say about Master Splinter," Leonardo began, nervously fiddling with his fingers. "I mean, he found us... saved us... taught us... he raised us up all the way from little babies, my brothers and me. Trained us to be ninjas. Kept us out of too much trouble, though I'm pretty sure we didn't make that easy for him. It's... hard... to imagine what life is going to be without him around. I mean, we always go out, we fool around but... we always came home, and he was always there for us. We will never forget Splinter... Hamato Yoshi. He was our sensei... our master... and most importantly of all, he was our father."

Michelangelo sniffed, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief, and most of the others were in similar states. Miwa was positively trembling, her hand shook so much that April was about to reach over and take her torch from her before she dropped it. Shockingly, Leatherhead beat her to it, claiming it with a surprisingly gentle touch for one so big and holding it aloft with his own.

"A truly... touching statement... Leonardo..." hissed the great reptilian beast.

Hesitantly April stepped forward, and softly cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her. "Splinter was a great man. He raised four great boys under very difficult circumstances. And when my dad couldn't be there for me... he was."

Here her eyes turned to her father, and Kirby O'Neil looked very solemn indeed, his great big eyes conveying more than mere words ever could, layered feelings of regret, pride, sadness and sorrow, all mixed together. April brushed back some of her hair, not wishing to linger on unpleasant memories, and continued to speak.

"Splinter was a warrior. A ninja master. And in many ways, a hero. But first and foremost, I like to think he was a teacher at heart. He taught us how to fight and what to fight for. And if he taught me nothing else, he taught me something so much more important than fighting. He taught me to hope again."

The red-haired kunoichi turned to the casket, flanked by Casey and Irma. Each of them carried a white lily, purchased in a flower store above, which they set in the boat alongside Splinter's body. Donatello also added to the boat the broken TCRI container that had been the original source of both Splinters and their own mutations. Michelangelo sniffed as the Turtles 'Mother' was added to the funeral ship.

"He once..." Michelangelo started to say, then cleared his throat and started again.

"Go ahead, Mikey," said Leonardo. "We're all here."

Nodding, the youngest turtle continued on, "He once said the can of ooze gave birth to us all. So... here's hoping it gives birth to Splinter again. In some new life. Not as a zombie though... that... that wouldn't be cool... like, at all..." he trailed off, his voice getting weaker as he choked on his own words.

His brothers gently started to shush him, seeing he was already upsetting himself as much as the others present, but the youngest brother was already shut himself up and remained silent for the rest of the proceedings.

"Has... anyone else anything to say?" asked Leonardo.

Emboldened by the words said by the others, Miwa finally stepped forward with her own words. Composing herself with great dignity, the daughter of Hamato Yoshi spoke.

"For the longest time, I never knew my father. He was stolen from me... and I was stolen from him. When we first met, I even tried to..." she trailed off, unable to speak. Steeling herself, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled, then continued.

"I saw real, true courage that day. I didn't realize it at first, but it was there. No matter how hard things got, no matter how much I hated him, my father never failed to do the right thing. I can't even begin to imagine that sort of courage. I thought I had a hard life, but I can't fathom the sort of things he had endured not only because of me, but for me. And for all of you, his family. I wish I could ask him for some of his courage now. I've lost him for a second time. This time, however... this time I know he loved me. Loved all of us," she added with a glance at her mutant siblings.

Splinters daughter turned to the funeral ship and gently laid a hand over her fathers, fingertips brushing against the dark rat fur covering the back of his hands.

"_Arigatou gozaimasu_," she whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible. "_Sayonara, Tousan_."

A single tear graced her pale cheek before falling earthwards, and she gently wiped it away before retaking her place with the other mourners, head bowed low.

Surprisingly, Jack Kurtzman then stepped forward, still holding his hat in hand. Leonardo stepped aside to give him room.

"I admit I never knew this Hamato Yoshi," he began. "But I have heard nothing but great things, which tells me enough. More than that I've seen firsthand just what he's done with his students. I don't have much to say, just a quote I'm familiar with. Something I thought would be appropriate for this occasion," Jack cleared his throat. "The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways. I go to die..." he indicated the fallen ninjutsu master. "And we to live," he added, turning back to the assembled mourners. "Which of these two is better only God truly knows."

Donatello nodded thoughtfully. "Socrates," he identified.

The older man smiled at the recognition, and nodded, stepping back amongst the others. No one else ventured forward, if there were any last words they had for Splinter they kept them within, letting his spirit hear them alone. The living had said their peace for the departed.

After a long moment of silence broken only by the rushing waters, Leonardo gently tried to move things along. "If no one else has anything to say or last respects to pay... well... it's time."

Apparently no one did, for not a one of them moved or said a thing. Leonardo turned to his brother.

"Raph? If you would?"

The shorter turtle nodded, and without a word unsheathed his sai and snapped the line holding the tiny boat in place, letting the current claim it. Leatherhead reached over and, with a delicate touch, turned on the record player at his side, setting the needle in place on the spinning disk and letting music be coaxed forth from it.

A solemn piano song began to play, the musical notes reflecting off the sewer walls to distort oddly, creating an eerie, otherworldly sort of melancholy as those gathered watched Splinter's body slowly drift down the river. As it passed, each of them gently tossed their lit torches into the boat, setting it alight. Flames licked at the sides of the ancient ninjutsu master as he drifted down the spillway.

Leonardo put his fist in his palm and bowed low out of respect to their departed father. The others began to mimic him, as Kurtzman and Marikawa held their hats over their hearts, and Casey Jones offered a two-finger military-esque salute.

The flames rose higher, licking the sewer ceiling, as the funeral boat floated down the sewer tunnel. Soon little more than a silhouette of Splinter's body was visible in the conflagration as everyone watched with a sort of horrified fascination. His casket drifted out of sight around the bend, and in a short while would be little more than ash at the bottom of the reservoir up ahead.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

* * *

A long time passed even after the funeral boat had passed out of view before everyone returned to the lair for the after funeral gathering. Michelangelo and Marikawa had whipped up some food for everyone, the patent pending pizza gyoza and some yakitori were being served. The latter had been Splinter's favorite food.

"It always took us ages to get stuff like this," Donatello mused, twirling one such delicacy between his fingers. "Poultry was so hard to come by before he let us venture up to the surface."

"Most meats were," Raphael added, munching on a grilled stick of yakitori. "And he never once complained."

Leonardo nodded thoughtfully. It was true, times had been harder back then. Splinter had done most of the scavenging himself. "He used to starve himself to make sure we all got enough to eat," he remembered.

"It was just the way he was," Donatello said, filling up plates and passing them along to others. April first of course, then Kirby O'Neil. Irma and Miwa came next, then he was about to hand a plate to Kurtzman when Slash elbowed him aside and took it for himself.

"Gotta be quicker than that, kid," said the bigger turtle with an evil grin, shoveling the food into his open mouth. Nearby, Leatherhead was taking to pizza gyoza well, but was also spewing small chunks of food with each bite of his massive jaws, not built for such delicate eating. They were making a bit of a mess, but no one minded really. It's not like they were going to be cleaning up afterwards.

With Shredder having found their lair, the Turtles were planning to move out first thing tomorrow morning. No telling who else had the information on where to find them. In hindsight, they had been very careless about such things. First Leatherhead had been brought in, then Timothy had stumbled upon it, Slash, Casey, a small army of Foot bots, then there was that fiasco with Irma, and that wasn't counting the likes of the Rat King being able to simply pluck the information right out of Splinters brain. The old lair was definitely compromised.

So they were moving out.

Donatello had already found an abandoned reservoir station they would be using as their new lair, and set up new security measures to prevent incidents like those from happening again. So in a way, they were saying good bye to their old home as well as Splinter. It was a new chapter in the life of the Ninja Turtles.

"Hey I meant to ask," Irma said, sliding over to Michelangelo as he rummaged through some kitchen cupboards, searching for something in particular. Pots and pans rained down near her feet as he discarded what he didn't need. "If the Kraang are all gone, and the Shredder's dead... legitimately dead this time, thank goodness... why is it you guys are going into hiding at all? I mean, isn't it maybe time for the world to just deal with you? You're obviously not going anywhere."

"That _would_ be kinda cool," the youngest Turtle admitted with a wistful smile, thinking of all the cool new friends he could make. But just as quickly as he did, he also remembered all the horrible foes they'd found as well over the years. "But Leo seems to think the world isn't quite ready for us yet. I mean, they passed off the last Kraang attack as hallucinogens in the drinking water, so I guess he's got a point. For now it's better we just keep to ourselves."

"And good friends, right?" she asked with a small smile, adjusting her glasses.

He paused in his rummaging to give her a great big hug, which she awkwardly returned. "Of course and friends! We'd never shut you all out... ah, here it is!"

Michelangelo broke out a bottle of Splinter's old rice wine, otherwise known as sake. He'd brought it with him from Japan, one of the few possessions he still had from his previous life. Aged to perfection, and saved for a special occasion. There was no doubt in anyone's mind this was such an occasion. The fact that most of them were underage went unprotested by the few adults present. They had been through enough, endured enough, that a little alcohol wouldn't hurt them.

"To Splinter," Michelangelo said, raising his tiny glass after he'd poured for everyone.

"To Splinter!" the others chorused the toast and lightly clinked their glasses together, drinking in honor of the legendary ninja master.

"Wow, that's strong stuff!" exclaimed April, coughing. Miwa patted her on the back to help clear her airway.

"Warm and salty, the way good sake should be. At least that's the traditional way to serve it, according to its entry on..." Irma rambled on, but almost no one was listening to her as they partook of the brew.

The Turtles didn't seem as affected as their human counterparts, they drank down the sake like it was water. None of the other mutants were showing any signs of intoxication either, though Leatherhead had refused the stuff on principle. No one was inclined to argue.

"I wonder if turtles can even get intoxicated?" Miwa mused aloud.

"Well, technically..." Donatello started, but a three-fingered hand was quickly slapped over his open mouth.

"Don't," said Raphael, removing his hand only after it was obvious his brother had stopped talking. "Just... don't? Okay? This once?"

Irma's coughing interrupted as she swallowed another mouthful, and this time it was April who came to her rescue, helping pat her on the back as she swayed unsteadily for a moment.

"Splinter must be laughing his tail off at us, up in Heaven," Casey laughed.

"What do you think Heaven's like?" asked Michelangelo. "I dunno why people would want to go there if its nothing but a bunch of clouds everywhere."

"Well for one thing it probably smells a heck of a lot better than this," Casey replied knowingly. "I'm sure Splinter's living it up with all the cheese he could possibly eat right now."

Leonardo rolled his eyes, even as he smiled gently. Their father had almost never eaten much cheese, either before or after his mutation, and certainly not the holey yellow blocks that Casey was probably thinking of. Still, it was a harmless little white lie, and Michelangelo seemed comforted to think their master was in a better place now.

* * *

The gathering went on for hours, well into the early evening, as they spoke of Splinter's past and the Turtle's future, grief dissolving away slowly like morning dew in the sunlight, replaced by a fond, wistful sort of remembrance. Things seemed like they were going to be okay. For everyone.

Alas, all good things had to come to an end.

A beeping noise filled the air, and after a moment, Casey Jones sheepishly lifted up his wrist and turned off the alarm in his watch.

"Uh... listen I really hate to break up the party. But... it _is_ a school night," Casey explained, nodding over at April and Irma. They shared a look of mutual surprise between them. Since when did Casey Jones, legendary slacker and troublemaker extraordinare, become so responsible?

"I have to get back too," said Miwa. "The Foot Clan... someone has to keep an eye on things..."

Leonardo nodded, not needing to hear more. Ever since the Shredder had fallen, Miwa (or rather, 'Karai') had set herself up as their new leader to prevent in-fighting and civil war from spilling out onto the streets of Tokyo, New York, and countless other cities the old Shredder had sunk his terrible claws into.

"... it's getting easier now that the idiot Baxter Stockman is out of the picture," Miwa explained. "Most of the Foot Bots are already infected with the virus Donnie made to self-destruct as soon as I give the order. But Tokka and Rahzar are still making it difficult to completely shut down all of our illegal activities. I have to keep everything quiet until I'm ready to bring the authorities in and have everyone involved locked up."

"What about those two? Xever and Bradford won't go down easy," said Leonardo, somehow unable to envision either the aquatic thug or his wolfish buddy being very comfortable behind prison bars. Or many prisons that could hold the two of them for that matter. Especially if they were in the same cell together.

"Still trying to come up with an idea for that," Miwa said pensively, wringing her hands.

"Maybe we can help," Leo said. "Donnie's been making great progress with his latest batch of retro-mutagen..."

"No! I can do this," she protested. "I... I have to do this. Myself."

Leonard reluctantly nodded, Miwa obviously needed space right now from the rest of her family. As well as something familiar to keep her mind off of things. He could certainly relate, and he had no idea what he was going to do for the future. Other than keep an eye on her and the rest of them. He was the Hamato Patriach now, another layer of responsibility added to his mantle of leader.

But for now, there was one last matter to attend to, and he cleared his throat to get everyone's attention before anyone could slip out.

"Before you all go, we still have Splinter's final will to read..."

* * *

Donatello went to go and fetch the will, retrieving the faded parchments from Splinter's old room and unfolding it to see their father's clear, crisp handwriting. Everyone took up a seat in the living room, settling onto the couches or various furniture scattered about. Clearing his throat and trying in vain to remove the lump stuck in it, Donatello read the will aloud.

"My family," he said, and it seemed to them as if they could hear Splinter's voice and tone in the written words. "I feel I must apologize for my absence. The world we live in can be a dark and dangerous place. I have tried to shield you from it as best I knew how, but you are more than ready to make your way in the world now. I have done my best to prepare you for what lies ahead, given you the tools and training necessary, and I hold every confidence in your abilities. We became family under the strangest of circumstances, but that makes what we have and hold dear no less precious. Blood is not what makes a family, it is the love that binds us together and makes us strong."

"I have a few parting words to say, then I urge you all to move on with your lives and not dwell on what has become of me. Look back as you will on the past, but always keep moving forward towards the future."

"Hamato Leonardo. I have always known you were destined for great things. And this is as much burden as it is blessing, for being a leader is no easy thing, as you well know by now. You will stumble, you will fall, you will fail. Yet I know you will continue to rise above yourself as you have always done in the past. Ever since you were little. In honor of this, I bequeath to you my sword. It is yours, and I ask only that you know when to use it and when to leave it in its sheath."

The katana was laid at the feet of Leonardo, who took it with a bowed head and great humility.

"Hamato Raphael. We have spoken often of your temper, which does no credit to the passion in your heart and the strength of your protective instincts. I urge you to temper such with wisdom, and listen to your brothers. You have indeed great strength in you, and I know it will be used for good and noble causes. And though you have not always been my best student, you have always been a beloved son to me. To you, I leave behind my calligraphy brushes and inks. A way to better express yourself and your feelings to the world."

The calligraphy brushes were handed over to Raphael, who took them with some reluctance.

"Hamato Donatello. You possess a great intelligence, but I implore you strongly not to rely overtly on this gift. When you think you know all the answers is often the time you are most wrong. Yet in this you reveal a greater strength in your tenacity, your inventiveness, and your ability to see not only what is, but what could be. If it is wrong, I hold confidence you can make it right. I would ask you to take care of my journal, and add to its pages future exploits of you and your siblings, for knowledge is the greatest of strengths."

Donatello accepted the journal, leafing through its pages before setting it down by his side.

"Hamato Michelangelo. I know you think little of yourself, hiding behind your humor and your childish mask. Yet you possess your own gifts: great imagination, superb reflexes, and above all else a kind heart, and I urge you not to let bad experiences bruise that great heart of yours. Continue to seek out the best in people, even those who do not see it in themselves. To you, I leave behind my tea kettle, in the hopes that future brews allow you to continue to build bonds between friends."

The kettle was set in front of Michelangelo, who gazed at it with a subdued reverence.

"Hamato Miwa. I feel I did not know you nearly as well as I should have. The fault lies with me, in my failure to save you sooner from a life you did not deserve. But I will not dwell on such, and urge you not to either. Instead, cherish the brief time we did have together and remember even in my absence you have family that will look out for you and take care of you. And no matter what happens, you are and always have been my daughter. Your mother and I are always within you."

"And finally, April O'Neil. You have your own family, yet in the time I have known you, you have become a part of ours as well, and become a guiding influence. Not only on my sons, but to myself as well. As much as you may have learned from me, we have also learned much from you. You have brought two worlds closer together than I could have ever imagined possible. Continue to strive towards greatness, and I imagine even the concept itself will be humbled before what you accomplish in your life."

Donatello paused momentarily, wiping at his moist eyes with the back of his hand. He then grimly pressed on.

"When I left Japan so many years ago, I had literally lost everything. My home, my wife, my daughter. My very purpose in life had been taken from me. In the many months and years that passed between then and now, I gained much, and consider my life one well lived despite its hardships. In closing, my family, I urge you all to continue in your efforts to make a difference in the world. Protect those who need it, save those whom you can, and live by the ideals of honor and family. I could ask for no greater a legacy than that."

"Hamato Yoshi, also known as Splinter."

* * *

That was it. There was nothing else left to read, yet Donatello held the parchment open a while longer. Almost as if hoping for more words to appear. But when evident they would not, he reluctantly folded up the will and set it on the kitchen table beside him. His hands were trembling.

Nor was he the only one. Michelangelo was whimpering, his great big eyes on the verge of tears he was trying in vain not to shed. Leonardo placed a hand on his shoulder, then wrapped his other arm around the youngest turtle, hugging him close. Donatello did the same from the opposite side, and a moment later Raphael was right there beside him, the four brothers united in a shared grief. Miwa and April joined in almost immediately, and after a while, some of the others drifted over as well, Leatherhead curling his tail around the turtles legs while Casey Jones wrapped an arm around April and Raphael each. Irma clung to Michelangelo, or rather he to her, as she patted the top of his head soothingly. Slash joined in last, grumbling, but he joined in all the same. Even Metalhead set himself up close to Donatello, stubby mechanical arms holding on to his creators shell in a hug that while coldly robotic was no less heartfelt.

They were undoubtedly a very, very strange family. Teenagers, ninjas, mutants, weirdoes and freaks. But not one person witnessing them now could doubt they _were_ a family. A family now one member short.

* * *

The gathering over, everyone started to depart. Michelangelo took the adults in the group to the surface in the Shellraiser, dropping off Marikawa-san at his noodle restaurant, setting off Mr Kurtzman near his latest hideaway sanctuary, and saying his farewells to Kirby O'Neil at corner of Whitman Road and Silverstein Boulevard.

April paused by the entryway to give Donatello an encouraging hug, and he clung to her like a lifeline.

"Everything is going to be okay," she said to him, patting the back of his shell. "I know it."

"I believe you," he replied. "I'll... we'll... see you soon?"

"Soon," she promised, patting his scaly green cheek.

"C'mon April, we really should get going," coaxed Irma, tugging her friend along by the arm. "I really don't want to have to walk home after night falls. You know what New York City is like after dark."

"We can take care of ourselves," April replied, recalling her lessons in ninjutsu and the weight of her tessai fan resting against her hip. Gifts from Splinter she would always cherish. Irma had been taking martial arts lessons as well, though she was nowhere near as good at them.

"I'll come with," Casey Jones offered, shouldering a hockey stick. "Just in case."

"Our hero," Irma said with a giggle.

The three teenagers set off down the railways and towards their homes, as the remaining mutants took their leave.

"I bid you farewell for now, my friends," said Leatherhead, as he slunk off down the abandoned railway tunnels, slinking into the darkness. Still having unpredictable bouts of berserker aggression, the great reptile had a lair of his own under the city theater. He said the music from performances sometimes helped him relax, and none doubted such.

"Guess I should be taking off too," added Slash with an indifferent stretch, making it seem as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Take care, alright bro?"

"Right," replied Raphael, clasping hands with the bigger turtle.

Though relationships had been mended between them, Slash still did not fit well into the dynamic of the brotherly quartet, and had struck out on his own for the time being. He faded into the shadows like one born from them, vanishing easily despite his massive size.

With the departure of the last of the guests, it was just the four of them again. And as much as they were a family still, and used to being just the four of them, they could not help but feel the absence of a familiar presence now that they were all alone in the lair again.

"We should probably get settled in for the night," Leonardo decided. "Early to bed, early to rise, as they say. Lights out in ten, Turtles!"

_Oh great, Leo's gone into full on 'Captain Ryan' mode_, Raphael thought. _I can't deal with this right now..._

"I think I'll spend the night at the new lair," said the shorter turtle. "I dunno if I want to stay here tonight... too many memories..."

"Can I come too?" asked Michelangelo hesitantly. Donatello also looked up. He said nothing, but his expression was plain enough to read. He wasn't terribly keen on staying tonight either.

Leonardo pondered that. The new lair wasn't set up for extended living yet, but it was dry, warm, and safe. More importantly, it wasn't _here_, where the loss of Splinter still ached like a great big hole in their hearts. "Maybe we should all go," he declared. "We can camp tonight and finish setting up in the morning. Sound good?"

A chorus of agreements came from his brothers, and Leonardo realized he'd made the right choice suggesting such. The new lair, and their future, awaited them. The Turtles loaded up their meager remaining possessions into the Shellraiser and prepared to depart. They would be spending the night at their new home.

Leonardo paused at the open doors, sparing one last look back at their old home, and silently bid it and their absent father farewell.

* * *

Though perhaps not as truly absent as some might have believed.

In the empty air above the turnstiles, near the entrance to the lair, a ghostly spirit of pale eldritch blue faded into being. None could see him, none could hear him, he watched from the outside as an observer only, unable to manifest in the material plane.

He was a guest at his own party, it seemed. The thought brought a careworn smile to his face.

No longer bound by the rules of the living world, his spirit took the form of his younger self, the human Hamato Yoshi, long before he ever became known as Splinter. Barely older than twenty-five, the time in his life when he had been most happy, and things most perfect.

Yet despite all the trials and tribulations that had followed, the hardships endured and the battles fought, the loved ones gained and lost, he would not trade one minute of it. He was proud of what he had accomplished in life. Especially with his sons and daughters, and all of his students.

Another spirit slowly coalesced into being beside him, fading into existence by his side. Like Hamato Yoshi, she was equally invisible to the gathered living souls, though it seemed for half a moment as if Leonardo could sense their presence, glancing up at the empty air where the two of them hovered. As beautiful in death as she had been in life, the spirit of Tang Shen drifted over to her husband's side, laying an ethereal head gently on his shoulder.

The Shellraiser powered up and as they watched, starting off down the railway, carrying their children to their new home in the reservoir. Tang Shen lifted her head and gently lay her hand on Yoshi's shoulder.

"Come along dear... your rest has been prepared for you," she intoned, her voice like music to his ears.

She tugged softly on his arm, but Yoshi found himself momentarily unwilling to go. His warm gaze lingered on his children's retreating vehicle as his eyes grew misty. He was so very proud of them all.

"We can always visit to see how they are doing," Tang Shen whispered with a lovely smile. "Especially when the grandchildren come along."

With that, Hamato Yoshi allowed himself to be gently pulled away by his beautiful wife, and as they turned to go the two of them faded until vanishing entirely. Off to the great beyond that lay after death, though not so far they would not be able to visit and check on the strange family they had a hand in making.

Splinter would _always_ be with his family. Not even death would ever change that.

* * *

**Authors Notes:  
**Obviously a lot of stuff occurred off-screen as backstory, notably the inclusion of Irma into the Turtles fold of close friends, Fishface upgrading to Tokka the same way Dogpound did to Rahzar, and Karai becoming Miwa again, as well as taking control of the Foot. All based on guesswork as to where the current cartoon incarnation is heading, though its liable to be proven wrong soon enough. I also delibertly left out the description of Kirby O'Neil so as to sidestep the question of whether or not he'll ever be un-mutated from Wingnut, though my current guess is not so much.

Influences from the TMNT movies were obviously borrowed for the Shredder's final fate, including his mutated 'Super' form and his body being crushed in a garbage compactor. May he rest in cube.

The speech Leonardo makes at the Funeral is slightly paraphrased from 'The Death of Splinter, TMNT Volume 4 #10 through #11 (Mirage Comics). The discovery of which was partially responsible for the creation of this story in the first place.

Miwa's Japanese words translates in English as a "Thank you (Formal Version)" and "Farewell, Father."


End file.
